


Boys Will Be Bugs

by Adamarks



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Gen, and a 2am meltdown, and butter sandwiches, there's a moth, welcome to the angst hole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23060428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adamarks/pseuds/Adamarks
Summary: And if you wanna cryMake sure that they never see itOr even better yetBlock it out and never feel it...Don't message me 'cause I won't reply, I wanna make you cryAin't that how it's s'posed to be? Though it isn't meBoys will be bugs right?-Simon makes a butter sandwich
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42





	Boys Will Be Bugs

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by listening to boys will be bugs by cavetown on repeat for days.

It’s two in the morning and I’m crying over a toaster. 

Not as in the toaster made me cry. As in I’m crying and watching tear drops hit the toaster as I wait for my bread toast. 

I try not to cry as much anymore. 

Doesn’t really work. Now I just cry when I’m alone so I don’t have to bug them. 

I say “them.” 

Baz has pretty much given up on talking to me anymore. All I get are sad looks that make me feel like garbage. 

Are we even still dating? I don’t fucking know. Probably not. 

I choke down a sob. 

I mean, it’s my fault, isn’t it? I pushed him away. And I wasn’t good enough. 

I hug my arms tight. Keep myself together. 

I’m falling apart. 

Who am I kidding? I’m already in pieces. 

The toast pops up and a tear lands on one slice. 

I take it out and start piling pats of butter onto a piece. I keep piling until I can’t see any bread from under all the butter. I lift my shoulder and wipe a cheek before I smoosh the other piece on top. 

Butter sandwich. 

Tadah. 

I sit on the floor and rub my sleeve across my nose. I take a bite. 

The bread is warm. The butter is starting to melt. It’s cold in the middle. I’d be in heaven if I weren’t having a mental breakdown. 

I slowly scoot so I can lie down while I eat. I stare at the ceiling as tears drip into my ears. 

I feel like shit. I feel like shit. I feel like shit. 

I  _ am  _ shit. 

I sob and almost choke on a hunk of sandwich. Eating and crying is dangerous. 

Something flickers in my periphery and I turn my head to look at the little light above the sink. A moth keeps flitting around the bulb. 

My wings are shoved uncomfortably behind my back. Fucking things. I shift them a bit. 

Guess Mr. Moth up there can’t lie on his back either. Nor was he born with wings. 

He probably doesn’t resent his. Made  _ his _ life easier. 

Well, now he wastes his time trying to jab himself into the light. So maybe it’s not that much easier. 

My tears have stopped flowing, but my cheeks are still wet. I keep watching the moth. 

My throat is sore. My eyes feel tired. 

I name the moth Humphrey. 

It’s three a.m. when I go back to bed. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'M A DUMB TEEN BOY! I EAT STICKS AND ROCKS AND MUD!!! I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE GOVERNMENT AND I R E A L L Y NEED A HUG!! I FEEL STUPID! UGLY! PRETEND IT DOESN'T BOTHER ME! I'M NOT VERY STRONG BUT I'LL FUCK YOU UP IF YOU'RE MEAN TO BUGS!


End file.
